


I love you (more than I could ever scream)

by kurokenstxn



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, Hospitalization, M/M, Major Character Injury, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 02:49:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21047057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurokenstxn/pseuds/kurokenstxn
Summary: It's been almost two years since the accident happened.





	I love you (more than I could ever scream)

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first work so please be nice
> 
> specials thanks to my bro keiji <3
> 
> and happy birthday kenma!!

It's been almost two years since the accident happened.

It's been a year and a half since Keiji and Koutarou tried to convince him that, maybe the best option would be to disconnect him. And a year since they stopped because they realized that ventilator connected to his body was keeping more than one person alive.

Tetsurou's artificial breathing was Kenma's oxygen. The beeping sounds of Tetsurou's heart kept Kenma from giving up. That small possibility of him waking up helped Kenma to wake up everyday.  
And he hated every second of everyday.

He hated the view of Tetsurou's body slowly deteriorating. How his scent of flowers slowly faded and now stank of hospital and antiseptic. Even his bed head was gone after a long time of laying on his back and without his and Kenma’s pillows sandwiching his head.

Kenma knew he was withering along with him, but couldn't find the will to do something about it either. Eating was hard, keep going was hard, a life without Tetsurou by his side was hard. And it sucked.

It sucked so much that Kenma felt the need to talk about it, because that's what he's always done, talking to his husband about things that sucked. He always vented to him when something annoyed him, because Tetsurou always had some piece of advice.

This time his only answer was the sound of air moving through the ventilator and that beeping sound showing he was still in this world.

Kenma's soft voice filled the space that used to belong to Tetsurou's, talking about some things on good days, and other things on bad days.

On good days, he liked to talk about their cats, how they were waiting for Tetsurou to go back home to scratch their heads and give them food under the table when Kenma wasn't looking. About their parents, who were always praying for him to wake up. Shoyo was a frequent topic. He's been a strong pillar for Kenma and he admitted he wouldn't have made it this far without him. He talked about Keiji and Koutarou, but not so much since they visited frequently and made the silence a little less louder.

During bad days, Kenma talked about how hard it was. How hard it was to eat and sleep without Tetsurou. About how much he missed him. How much he hated it.

It's been almost two years and today has been a bad day.

A really bad day.

Kenma was done with waiting, done with his poor excuse of living. He wanted to disconnect Tetsurou and follow him to wherever he decided to go.

But Tetsurou promised he will always be there for his husband, and this time wasn't an exception.

Kenma's never believed in intangible things like destiny, but just when he was about to give up on them, he felt Tetsurou's hand twitching.

He didn't want to believe what he'd just felt. He barely eats, barely sleeps and it would've been easy to hallucinate out of desperation.

But he was sure the second twitch wasn't an hallucination.

He pressed the button to call the doctor almost maniacally. It was the first time in a long time he's done that. Not even videogames could distract him from having his reason to live trapped in a hospital bed.

The doctor said that Tetsurou had possibilities of regaining consciousness and control of his body, but it would be a slow process. Kenma would have to wait a bit more, and he didn't want to hope too hard.

He did anyway.

His emotions had been out of his control since the day he woke up in a hospital bed himself. The doctor said he barely made it out alive. Not five minutes later, the bomb that Kenma’s reason for living was still fighting for a second chance was dropped. 

• • •

Tetsurou regained consciousness and control of his body and just like the doctor said, it was a slow process. He couldn't talk yet, but he was able to do more than listening to Kenma's crying and begging.

He was finally able to see Kenma, and yes, he was grateful for it. But the view saddened him.

Kenma's already small hands felt a lot more skinnier than he remembered. His hair was black, it's been like that since college. But now it was waist long and it was evident Kenma didn't take proper care of it.

Let alone the rest of him.

He looked like a malnourished 12 year old kid and not the beautiful, healthy man he remembered before whatever the fuck happened.

Tetsurou wasn’t sure of what happened and, being honest, he doesn't care.

The only thing he wants to do is to hold Kenma's bony hand to reassure him, to say that they'll both make it out of this.

After a few days, they removed the ventilator and put on the small oxygen tubes in his nose. They felt funny.

Tetsurou's voice was hoarse, especially after almost two years of not using it, with a ventilator in his throat. But still, it was the most beautiful thing Kenma's ever heard.

He hadn't thought he'd cry from happiness ever again, and yet he did.

The only thing they were able to say were whispered "I love you's" mixed with their names, looking at each other's eyes while wiping their tears in vain because they couldn't stop crying.

Kenma missed hearing his name in Tetsurou's voice.

Tetsurou hated seeing Kenma so broken.

They wanted to kiss desperately. But Kenma missed that voice so much, he didn't want to shut him up again, not even for the second a small kiss would last.

So he waited until Tetsurou couldn't talk through his tears anymore, since he hadn't been able to do so for the last five minutes.

It wasn't like he had much to tell, he'd been talking non-stop for almost two years.

When they finally kissed, it was soft. And salty, with both of their lips chapped, jaws and cheekbones more pronounced than they remembered. But it was perfect. It was perfect because it was right then when they realized they'll be okay as long as they're together.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll may write a second part with more bokuaka, more of their families and their journey to get back on their feet again, with more dialogue and all but depends on the feedback this receives


End file.
